Nothing Unremarkable
by nelliesbones
Summary: He who had known almost every version of her loved this one the most... This is a collection of Mulder and Scully moments happening in the unremarkable house and beyond. Warmhearted fluff, MS4 did never happen, M for a reason.


You can also find my X-Files stories on AO3. I might keep ffnet for Bones and post MSR over there, we'll see.

NOTHING UNREMARKABLE

I. Sandalwood and Saturday

He watched her squeezing a dollop of creme coloration into her glove-clad palm. A gentle smile curved up his lips as he placed himself in the mirror behind her, seeking the crystal blue of her eyes in the spotless reflection.

Lifting her head, she met his gaze, answering his smile with one of her own.

"You want something, Mulder?"

He hummed contently, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on top of her damp hair. Inhaling deeply, he could smell her recent shower; sandalwood and Saturday. His thumb drew a lazy circle over her midsection, and he sensed both her warmth and the rough silkiness of her robe beneath his fingertips.

"Pizza, beer, the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything plus a kiss. Maybe not in that order."

"Anyone rereading 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'?" came her amused reply.

Bending his head, he nuzzled her ear with his lips before placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Maybe, maybe not. It's 'Rock It Like a Readhead Day' again?" He nodded towards the tube of her favorite brand of hair care products that was lying on the sink.

Scully lifted her hand with a sigh, massaging the coloration into her damp tresses. He released her, giving her some space.

"It's getting harder to cover up the gray," she confessed.

"Why do you do it at all?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"Are you kidding me?"

He lifted his palms in the age-old gesture of innocence and shook his head.

"Not at all. I mean, do you think_ I_ should color my hair?"

She took a look at his salt-and-pepper, and her face softened.

"Aging suits you, Mulder."

"Well, _everything_ suits you, Scully. And that does include the big birthday we just celebrated last month. You, me, fifty-five candles, a cake, whipped cream..."

He winked at her.

"Rationally speaking, I know that you're right. Still…"

Her voice trailed off, and she applied more of the creme.

"I've always been a redhead. Well," a mischievous grin lit up her face, "minus the brief time during which I thought a purple Mohawk would be a good idea."

He chuckled, remembering the story about her rebellious teenage years; remembering finding those photos in Maggie's old family albums, but then her voice turned slightly serious anew.

"The pigment cells in my hair follicles die, the melanin in the strands fade, turning them transparent. I know that aging is a privilege, Mulder, proof of life. My pigment cells might be dying, but I am not. Still… I struggle with the concept of getting old."

He placed a kiss on her silk-clad shoulder, careful to avoid the hair she was working on. Mulder knew about her insecurities, of course he did, and he tried to come up with a profound reply.

"Once upon a time…"

"Are you gonna tell me a fairy tale, Mulder?"

He smiled.

"Once upon a time there was a bullfrog sitting in his basement office."

Her laughter was like music to his ears.

"The bullfrog didn't have many friends, but one day, a very smart and beautiful princess found him. She had red hair, short legs and her eyes reminded him of the vast blue sky."

Scully hit him with a towel.

"Ouch."

"That's for the short legs. But continue, I'm intrigued."

"The princess and the frog became best friends, and somewhere along the road, the frog fell in love with the princess."

He was interrupted once more, this time by a tender kiss.

"And the princess fell in love with the frog. Only that he wasn't a frog, he was a kind and handsome wizard."

"There were times when the frog had lost his princess. Maybe she was gone, maybe she was dying, all he knew was that he could impossibly live without her. Other times, the frog himself had to go, to places so dark that the princess, who was a creature of light, couldn't follow him."

She remembered dying, the fear of not getting old at all; remembered burying him and the empty place that was life without him.

"It was killing the princess, Mulder."

Lifting his hand, he brushed her cheek.

"I know it was. But do you know what the princess and the frog never ever cared about, not once?"

Her face burrowed into his palm, and she closed her eyes with a content sigh.

"What, Mulder?"

"Gray hair," he deadpanned.

She frowned and finally wrapped a towel around her creme-soaked hair.

"In the grander scheme of things, you're right. Nonetheless… I like my red hair, Mulder."

He waited for her to dispose of the gloves before drawing her fully into his arms. She melted against him, her hands meeting in his nape.

"And I like you, Scully, just the way you are. I like the old dimples and the new wrinkles. I like how you fit in my arms. You're my favorite person."

Tilting her head, she looked up at him, regarding his stubbly face and the gentleness in his hazel eyes. Her hands moved down his shoulders to his arms, feeling the strength underneath her palms, as his muscles twitched.

"Thank you," she finally said, and he bowed his head, burying it in the crook of her neck.

"Mmpff," he murmured incoherently into her skin.

She giggled, as his rough cheek tickled her, and when he looked up, he tapped the towel turban on her head with his forefinger.

"How long does this take?"

"About fifteen minutes."

He wiggled his eyebrows and let his gaze roam down her body. The silken robe was midnight blue, revealing more of her skin than it was covering. Experimentally, he tugged at the sash, and it came undone almost instantly. She was naked underneath the garment, breathtakingly naked. Her beauty was ethereal, had always been. She might have lost the youth of Botticelli's Venus somewhere along the way, but he who had known almost every version of her body loved this one the most.

"So… fifteen minutes?"

Warmth spread out in her belly, as he caressed her with his eyes and, soon, with even more than his eyes. Fingertips whispered over milky-white curves, rough against her softness, and she sighed as her body reacted to the utterly familiar touch of his hands.

He surprised her by lifting her onto the sink countertop in one swift move. Her legs opened on their own volition, and he stepped between them, holding her with one arm while the other hand resumed its earlier caresses.

A sigh, as he palmed her breast, his thumb grazing her nipple.

A gasp, as his touch traveled lower, circling the impossibly flat expanse of her belly.

A moan, as he cupped her oh so intimately.

Finally a whispered "Mulder", as his finger slipped inside her.

His lips crashed into hers, kissing her as if his life depended on it; and somehow or another, it did.

_You've made me a whole person..._

A long time ago, in a brightly lit hallway, he had told her that she'd saved him a thousand times over. Much later in another hallway, a suitcase next to her heels, her voice had broken when she'd said that she couldn't save him anymore, she could only save her sanity. Not so long ago, he'd finally told her that he didn't need to be saved, he only wanted to be loved by her. And love her in return.

She shuddered, as he caressed her deeply, and from her lips he drew a sigh. He was enveloping her completely, invading her every sense, and her eyelids dropped shut, heavy with need. Her head fell onto his shoulder, as her whole world was reduced to him.

"Mulder..."

He added a second finger, holding her just a little bit closer, and her fists clutched the well-worn cotton of his shirt.

"My princess", he murmured, and she giggled, but soon her giggles got breathless, as he found just the right spot within her.

The softest "oh" left her lips, her silken walls tightening around his fingers, and he kept stroking her until she tensed in his arms, throwing her head back. The towel around her hair came open, just as she lost it, her tresses spilling over her shoulders. Her timer chose the very same moment to make itself known as well, cutting annoyingly into her boneless bliss.

She groaned, and he kissed her one more time before stepping aside and closing her legs.

"You have to rinse that out, don't you?"

An apology crossed her face.

"I'm afraid so."

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

"I knew the rules. Fifteen minutes. I can handle it, I'm a big boy."

She surprised him by pressing her hand to his crotch, playfulness evident in her voice.

"I know."

She squeezed gently, and he took a shaken breath.

"Not fair, Scully."

"I know. That's why we've got two options here. Number one, you give me ten minutes and then I'm all yours. Number two... fancy a shower?"

A boyish grin lit up his face.

"Now that you mention it, a shower sounds wonderful."

Sandalwood and Saturday.

Life had never been better.

To be continued...


End file.
